… the musings of a BARELY thirty-something, married, Southern librarian with a wildly inappropriate sense of humor, an inability to gauge most emotional cues, a dear best friend since ninth grade, and a stubborn, mouthy, redheaded country boy to accompany her through life.

Search

Main menu

Post navigation

Marrying a Whole Person

On Friday, Jake and I had planned to look at a furniture outlet, so we could get an idea of what kind of new couch and bedroom set we’d like to buy in a few months. Unlike our often disastrous Hobby Lobby trips, I wasn’t concerned that this would cause any disputes, as we generally agree on large furniture pieces. It’s soft furnishings and décor that cause meltdowns and declarations that maybe we shouldn’t get married and he can just live alone in his bat cave forever. On the way to the store, however, Jake dented his pickup, so he was in a bad mood when I wanted to make a quick stop at the beauty store, before exchanging a pillow to Hobby Lobby. Eager to find out how much damage he’d done to his truck, he told me to go ahead, which was fine… except for the wording.

Jake: “There’s no reason for me to go to the beauty store with you.”
Me: :: angrily browsing hand lotions :: Well, there was no reason for me to go to the western store, the golf store, the video game store, and more often than not the liquor store, but I didn’t insist that all of your interests are frivolous and stupid and sit in the car.

I was eventually so frustrated that I decided to walk to Hobby Lobby on my own, because there ain’t no way that trip wasn’t going to end in a fight… and I was right. So, I suppose it started with a trip to the beauty store. It escalated with a pillow.

Me: “You hate everything I like.”
Jake: “That’s not true. I liked the shelf you wanted to get for your coffee mugs. I just didn’t like the pillow. I thought it was a stupid, frilly, single girl pillow.”

Dude. Ouch.

*Jake insists he did not say “stupid.” I insist he did and that that’s a terrible defense.

I spent the next 10 minutes or so privately crying on the way to the furniture store, messaging Laura about how everything I like is dumb and girly. I told her about the pillow and she agreed that one pillow was not worth any strong opinion, that Jake could handle a single pillow.

Jake: “There’s no point in going in here and looking at furniture if you’re pissed off at me, so what’s wrong?”
Me: “What’s the point of looking, when everything I like is stupid and frivolous?”
Jake: “That’s not what I said. Would you prefer me to just not say anything and you do whatever you want? I don’t even mention the stuff I’d get if it were just me.”
Me: “Neither. Do. I. Every single thing I point out is something I consider a reasonable compromise. It wasn’t sequined or pink. It was a white, furry pillow, to go with several other pillows you do like.”

We argued for a few more minutes, before I told Jake that I really didn’t want to look at furniture with him right now and that I’d like to go spend my gift card money at Bass Pro first… where I’m sure he’d love the furniture. After a good 45 minutes of silence, Jake was the first to speak.

Jake: “I’m sorry.”
Me: “You keep saying that, but we keep having this argument. Aaron hates that ceramic deer head Mindy likes so much. He thinks it’s stupid. She still has it, though, because that’s what marriage is. You know what? I hate your “Manners Maketh Man” sign idea. I think it’s pretentious and dumb… and Buzz is gross. It’s absolutely disgusting that you have a dead animal on your wall. The only reason I named him Buzz was to make it slightly cuter and less morbid, because you like him. I love animals so much that I cried when a goat died on The Walking Dead and I can still get over a dead fucking deer on my wall, for the rest of our lives, but you can’t handle one fuzzy fucking pillow? You just want to smoke cigars on a bear skin rug with the head still attached, while I sit quietly and contain my glitter. You tell me our home will represent me as well as you, but apparently it’s only the parts you like.”

The word glitter has never been spoken with such hurt and tears. Dude’s lucky it didn’t end with a pillow.

Jake: “I like all the parts of you.”
Me: “Apparently not the ‘stupid, frilly, single girl’ parts.”
Jake: “Okay, that might have been what I said, but-”
Me: “That’s what your sign needs to say.”
Jake: ::laughing:: “I’m sorry.”
Me: “I’m buying that pillow.”

I didn’t actually buy the pillow. I bought a much larger, softer one, with shorter fur, at Target… and Jake loved the overall effect of a gray linen comforter with large beige linen pillows, one red and one brown suede pillow, my fluffy white pillow, and another furry brown oblong one. I draped a soft red throw over the foot of the bed and we’re both happy with the overall appearance and comfort. We found our medium and Jake was only an ass and I was only a drama queen, like half the time… because this is not a Nicholas Sparks movie.

Jake and I are not two teenagers figuring out who we are, what we like, and what we want from the world. While I’m sure we’ll grow together over the years, we’re hardly the blank slates that were Noah and Ally/Jack and Rose/some example where the woman wasn’t a screeching whore. On our first date, Jake and I discussed our views on both religion and politics, in depth, because we’re not college freshman taking a contemporary moral problems class to evaluate theses concepts for the first time. Similarly, on our third date, I made it clear that I wasn’t leaving my library system. I worked hard for my degree and my place in the system. I make damn good money in my field and region and am over the soul searching part of life where I’m up for anything. Not long after, Jake and I talked about our financial philosophies, goals, and personal standings… because these things are not up in the air for us. We were 27 and 30 when we met. We’d had respectively 9 and 12 years to establish ourselves, take a stance on these issues, and realize that they weren’t worth compromising.

The only trouble is, Conservative Christian values are not equal to a fluffy white pillow. The career about which I’m passionate isn’t comparable to a clock that is somehow “too nautical.” A debt free lifestyle is not a deer head on the wall. While it’s benefited us greatly to have spent those 10 years or so making mistakes, conquering our goals, and becoming whole and complete adults, it’s also given us grounds to be quite the stubborn asses. It’s not just him, either. I may not be completely irresponsible with my money, but I also don’t have $50,000 in the bank like Jake… and I do have debt. For years, my Christmas budgeting plan has been to buy what I want for everyone and catch up later. Jake, however, is committed to us being debt free. So where Jake is going to have to let go of the rustic hunting lodge image he has in mind and loosen the purse strings a bit, I’m going to have to learn to hold off on that cat costume, the Amazon Echo, and a new watch, when I don’t have the discretionary income to fund it immediately.

At 29 and 32, we’re well established and developed individuals. Jake is a whole person and so am I, which has only ever been a perk, until recently. While I’d still rather have 200 fights over home decor over the course of our lives than 2000 about how he responds to everything with “I don’t care”, I am realizing that it’s going to be a struggle sometimes, for us to marry such complete people. It’s worth it, of course. Just… maybe we no longer talk about pillows.

6 thoughts on “Marrying a Whole Person”

Hmmm… I’d never thought about it before but all of a sudden I’m thinking that maybe my distaste for anything frilly or pink might have unknowlingly helped me avoid a few disagreements in my relationship! I do have a very furry white throw that Scrubs used to call a “horrible blanket” until he got sucked in by its softness and warmth. Now he gets home, wraps himself in it like a burrito and snuggles in saying, “I hate this blanket. It’s SUCH a horrible blanket” with a big smile on his face. The throw has actually won him over.